Anchored
by MidnightBebe104
Summary: Ichigo finds himself unable to run from him anymore. AU, Yaoi, Seme!Ichigo
1. Chapter 1

I do not own Bleach

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Anchored

**1.**

* * *

There was hesitance. But not much. A mere guise.

Subtlety? Barely.

Bedding a complete stranger sometimes did that. Perhaps through some vague inbred inclination for preserving an otherwise vacant sense of whatever the hell it was. Ichigo didn't know, nor did he especially care. Post carnal revelry, tomorrow they'd both be back to living their regular lives, by the mere grace of god (if even) managing to remember what letter the other's name may or may not have started with.

And that was fine.

Ichigo's fingers webbed into bright teal strands. A slight urging tug and the remaining veil of modesty bled from the woman's body like sap as her prim lips wrapped around his shaft and the deep hazels screamed sin.

Then it was what had become routine.

Abandon. Release.

Cool.

But not enough.

THTHT

Ichigo leant back against the wall, one foot up, arms folded and box of cigarettes tapping lightly against the side of his forearm. The cool night breeze wafting through the balcony played with his exposed skin; grey baggy sweats the only garment hanging low on his hips.

Ichigo listened to the scratching sound of pencil meeting paper that continued strewing across from him through the balcony's divider, accompanied by a wave of nostalgia. His gaze was hard, fixed on nothing in particular, and the memories of once upon a time crashed over him in thick, rampant currents he made no attempts at allaying, as he'd long established it futile.

It was a creaking (presumably the door), then a voice, that suddenly broke the comfortable sound and thus woke him from his thoughts.

"You coming to bed?" It was the voice of a man and it stirred something venomous in Ichigo. Pure toxin.

"In a minute." Came the other voice, equally of a man. But this one, in spite of every sensible, reasonable, still goddamn sane, part of his being, Ichigo wanted to hear more of.

Though he shouldn't have.

"It's beautiful." The abhorrent voice once more, this time softer, like a lull. An irritating, skull-scraping lull.

And then there was a brief silence that was not really a silence. Because the air of nothing held its own implications, and his gut retched.

Though it shouldn't have.

It did.

"Come on, let's go to bed."

There was a shuffling of feet, a door hinging shut and a suffocating stillness.

Ichigo fished out the lighter from his pants, lighting a smoke and bringing it twixt his lips for a drag. Fine ringlets of smoke drifted along the night air.

Ichigo dipped his head against the wall behind him, eyes slipping shut.

_Ichigo had been fumbling with the keys to the building foyer when he saw him, and barely resisting the urge to pinch himself in incredulity, he called his name -though not in greeting but in self-assurance._

_"Byakuya...?"_

_When their eyes locked, the man's face mirrored his own and was that of utter perplexity._

_"Ichigo..." he too near-gasped, setting down the box that had rested in his arms, familiar grey eyes dilating. With the back of his palm, he wiped the subtle moisture that had accumulated on his forehead and watched Ichigo cross over to him, hesitance in his gait, eyebrows much to thinned in questioning._

_"What are y- I mean, how...it's been a while," Ichigo finally settled stupidly, sheepishly...shamefully. But there were simply too many questions, too many words, storming his mind conjunctively, all equally weighted, none reigning sovereign over his befuddlement._

_But there was something else too._

_He swallowed that one back._

_Byakuya's gaze shifted somewhat evasively to the large cardboard box. "Yes..."_

_Ichigo's lips curved into a weak, pathetic smile. "How long has it been? 4-5 years now?"_

_"Five." Byakuya answered almost incriminatingly, the reply sharp-edged like a knife, eyes equally jagged for a split second, just a second, before he reeled it back in and tucked it away from sight, replacing it with his trademark stoniness._

_But Ichigo felt it._

_Ichigo's found his eyes unavoidably scanning the man unbidden, discovering he hadn't changed much over the last few years. Dark ebony hair still fell in graceful dollops over his shoulders, few lazy fringe-like strands grazing his pale face. He left it loose now, Ichigo mentally noted, something in him twining at the fact. He also noticed he'd outgrown Byakuya in build. While his face was fuller than during their college days, almost more handsomely so, his frame was still slender as before; from what Ichigo could make out through the dark fitted denims and rolled up button up. But everything else remained the same; the sharp jaw, thin lips, slim nose, eyes..._

_Ichigo wrung himself from his flagrant studying and instead focused on the boxes laying beside Byakuya's feet._

_"Those..."_

_"...Unloading the last few of my things." Byakuya responded Ichigo's non-verbalized question with what Ichigo could easily make out as slight hesitance. His voice was still the same too, a low, pleasant timbre, only minutely deeper._

_Then the words registered and Ichigo stared up abruptly._

_"Unloading?"_

_A solemn, simple, nod._

_Ichigo's lips diminutively hinged open and he swallowed._

_"Oh... cool. Here?"_

_'Where the hell else', he mentally beat himself._

_"Yes." was the only response._

_It took Ichigo a few seconds to respond this time._

_"That's great," He hoped his discomfort weren't audible, but by the expression that flashed across Byakuya's face, Ichigo knew that wasn't the case. "I sorta live here too." He scratched his nape with a stray sideward glance._

_"I see..." Byakuya shifted on his spot, face stiff now. He bent down to pick up the box he'd previously set down._

_Ichigo eyed the other container. "Need any help?"_

_Byakuya shot him an unreadable gaze before responding, "It's alright. Someone will come down to help me."_

_Ichigo's head tilted slightly. "It's no problem, really." He mounted the box onto his shoulder and smiled. "Really." Then began towards the elevators._

_Ichigo didn't know why he was doing it. A part of him pinned it to being cordial, the other wasn't so clear in motives; his head still capsized. Whatever it was, Ichigo couldn't deny the joy surfacing at seeing the man after so long -however masked and diluted it may have been, amongst the emotional fray that currently lay within him._

_Byakuya followed him inside the elevator wordlessly._

_"Floor?"_

_Byakuya pressed the sixth._

_Ichigo felt something in him stir._

_"Guess that means we'll be floor-mates," he uncomfortably remarked, to which Byakuya's eyes again flashed unreadably._

_The air within the small confines was laden in questioning and a rotund awkwardness. Ichigo wasn't sure if most of it came from his part. While it very well might have been the case, he doubted it. This was a two-way street, Ichigo knew._

_Ichigo trailed behind Byakuya and out of the elevator, footsteps lightly echoing across the hallway, something in him wanting to say something more to the man, anything -lord knew there was plenty- but he didn't. Instead he fell behind him shortly after and stopped, watching Byakuya continue down a familiar route. And then the man reached a door, worked to unlock it and Ichigo only watched, drowning in his own stupor._

_Because the door belonged to the apartment directly beside his own. And from within, another man stepped forth, one Ichigo recognized all too devastatingly well._

_"Hey, I was just about to come down," the guy began, removing the box from Byakuya's grasp before taking notice of the bewildered Ichigo and gaping with about as much restraint as a derailed train."...Ichigo?"_

_Throat chafed as though he'd just dry-swallowed concrete, Ichigo barely managed, "Kaien..."_

_"What are you-" the brunette glanced over at Byakuya as though for an explanation before switching back to Ichigo. "-doing here?"_

_"I...live here." Ichigo glanced at the door beside theirs, both men following. Ichigo found his fingers growing lax, causing the package atop his shoulder to falter slightly._

_Kaien was visibly taken aback and he shot another look at Byakuya whom only helplessly returned it."Wow that's- definitely a surprise," A certain displeasure littered the words, something Ichigo registered vividly._

_Ichigo slowly approached them, setting down the box before Kaien's feet, his dark nutmeg eyes meeting aqua's in a clandestine clash. "Yeah...so are you-?"_

_"Yeah. Uh, yeah." Kaien hastily replied the again non-existent question with a pat to the doorframe._

_The air deadened briefly._

_Running a hand through his thick bushel of spiky black hair, Kaien broke the sudden loaded silence that befell them with his own form of a slovenly-disguised adieu."Well...thanks for the help. We appreciate it."_

_'We?' Ichigo mused, his gut clotting in unjustifiable knots he couldn't quite understand. But he took the bait Kaien had cast and rolled with it. "Yeah. Sure. No problem." Squeezing past the hallway that now felt too narrow, Ichigo propped himself along his own door beside the pair, palming the knob."It was - good seeing you guys. I guess I'll see you around..." The bullshit smile again._

_"Yeah...you too." Kaien replied, however insincerely._

_But only Kaien._

_Exchanging a mix of final and tangibly unpleasant glances, they each dispersed inside of their apartments without further words, as though they **were** just some random strangers without a past and as though the questions and vibes filtering the space were nothing more than tainted air._

_It was when Ichigo was within the comforts of his own home, bracing himself against his living room table, that the memories and emotions barraged him in unrestrained sheafs; a rain of condemnation._

_The"I love you"_

_The "I'm sorry"_

_And those eyes. And their tears._

_But "I can't"_

_And the hurt._

_And "I'm sorry"_

_"I'm not like you..."_

_And the guilt._

_And something else._

_Something that had his heart clenching and throbbing in his chest as though rabid, though it shouldn't have._

_Though it fucking shouldn't have._

Quite the humorist, the universe was, Ichigo satirically scoffed inwardly.

He stubbed the cigarette against the concrete wall and lifted off it, cracking his vertebrae and neck.

The night sky was a dark and misty, ominous black. If there were any stars to be seen they were shrouded by the city lights, equally murky despite their brilliance.

Ichigo slid back inside his apartment, surveying the lived-in space with a quick weary scan before disappearing into his bedroom. He sprawled out atop the disheveled mattress, resting his head back on his heavily worn pillow and sighing. The smell of sex still clung heavily to the sheets.

Which was fine.

She'd been a rowdy one, hadn't she? Once they freed themselves of the inhibitions, they all were; wild little sex kittens. Calling his name (or whatever the hell they _thought_ it was), screaming profanities, clawing his flesh for more of him, all of him.

Yeah it was cool.

At least it used to be, as of late, they weren't doing anything for him. Not a damn thing. But he continued. He continued ferreting through skirt after skirt in wry attempts at quenching a thirst that should not exist, that was as unreasonable as it was foolish. As it was damned and unwanted.

Eyes squeezed shut almost painfully, Ichigo massaged the bridge of his nose.

Five years; it'd been that long since Ichigo'd last seen him. Since Ichigo's abandonment, was more like it. Because he was the one who ran. Ran from _him_. Ran from those words. Ran from those feelings. And now they were back. They were back as though all along they'd simply been tucked away in a barely-lid barrel. The guilt, the pain, the other thing. The one he wouldn't admit to. That scorned, banned, utterly deplorable sentiment he wasn't feeling. He _refused_ to feel.

Because that would make him the same as _that man_ wouldn't it? And he wasn't. He fucking wasn't.

Yet still, Ichigo found himself every night out on that balcony, hoping, if he was lucky, _he'd_ emerge. Most nights he did, just as before, with the sound of the pencil, beneath the same night sky, bathing Ichigo in his memory. Their friendship, their breakthrough. Ichigo's words. And then those eyes.

But there was more to it.

There had always been this common knowledge that with the collapse of any relationship, regardless of the trivialities, there was a partition of assets. Ichigo himself confirmed that fact firsthand. In Byakuya's and his case, the asset was Kaien, their mutual confidant. Ichigo's one-upon-a-time 'Brother', or as so many others often mistook -apparently through their uncanny resemblance (Ichigo never saw it). The three guys, though, through their feverish adolescence and beyond were as close-knit as Ponte, a friendship Ichigo never imagined would have had this end.

Ichigo never blamed Kaien either. Were Ichigo a third-party bystander in the situation, he too would have easily made the same choice. Hell, to this day his self-loathing over the matter had yet to subside...but there had been no other feasible option, and he was sorry for that. He was. But,

_"I'm not like you..."_

Nevertheless, Kaien was gone too. But it wasn't until just recently that everything clicked into coherence -the day of their unexpected rendezvous- that Ichigo came to discover Kaien hadn't simply taken Byakuya's side after the fallout, he had taken much more. And that knowledge awoke something fierce within Ichigo.

Something sour.

Though it shouldn't have.

They lived together now, next door to Ichigo (if life wasn't one ironic son of a bitch) and through his indirect observations, both men were far more than just your average roommates. Far more than that, and for some vile, unwarranted reason, the thought ruined Ichigo.

And those feelings that didn't exist, wreaked havoc.

* * *

**AN**: _While drowning myself in Carnival of Rust yesterday, this story kinda just burst into fruition. Gravelly doubt this will be too long. But who knows, my head's unpredictable that way. Estimate it at five chapters. Probably..._

_Thanks for reading!_

_Till the next_


	2. Chapter 2

I do not own Bleach

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Anchored

**2.**

* * *

"You can't seriously still be upset with me," The young woman across from Byakuya near-pouted, head resting atop her palm, finger idly gyring around her cup's rim. With an exasperated huff through her nose, she continued, "Nii-sama,"

"Rukia," Byakuya's voice was hard, not at all disparate from his current mood. "These matters never pertained to you."

"I was only trying to help..."

"And in doing so, you've only worsened-" Byakuya silenced suddenly as he watched the pitiful expression that crossed his sister's face and sighed softly, vision casting sideward to the people-littered sidewalks. "It doesn't matter anymore." Though Byakuya knew his sister meant no harm in her unwarranted meddling, her actions had placed him in a troublesome predicament. "I want no more talk of this."

Rukia's gaze too followed him out of the shop's plexiglas windows briefly, with a dejected bow. "I just...didn't want to see things end like that." She turned to Byakuya, her violet eyes scrunched in grave earnest. "Nii-sama, whether you'll admit to it or not, you still love him."

Byakuya returned her stare for only a short second before retreating to the window.

"I don't recall that having ever been in question."

"Then do something about it!" Rukia exclaimed in a hushed toned, ramming her small fists into the table. A reverberating quiver lapsed across the surface and a man across from them in the small diner eyed them unabashed. Rukia shot him a warning glance, from which the man quickly averted.

Byakuya barely flinched at the display, but his eyes narrowed.

"Rukia, whatever ideas you have in your head, relinquish them. Ichigo and I are nothing more than a past," Byakuya ignored the pang that swept through his insides. "And that was _his_ choice." he emphasized with an unconcealed rancor. "Kaien and I-"

"Oh fucking please," Rukia impudently interrupted. She recoiled instantly at the sternness with which she was regarded by her older brother who was obviously none-too-pleased with her tone and colorful vocabulary. "Forgive me...but," After another listless huff, Rukia's lips twisted into a weak smile. "You are not very subtle."

Byakuya's brow arched at that.

With a finger wired to her forehead, Rukia shook her head."Why do you think you're even with him? I mean, have you _seen_ him?"

Byakuya rose stiffly from his seat. "I do not have time for this."

"Nii-sama,"

The man extracted cash from his wallet and set it down on the table.

"Let it go." he warningly said, features dark, before skimming out of the diner without a further word.

THTHT

Rukia and Ichigo never lost touch. It was that that allowed this unpleasant situation to manifest. Byakuya never thought twice when his sister offered her assistance in helping him find an apartment. He never thought twice when the first building they'd 'coincidentally' wandered upon just so happened to have had an available space. Never thought twice of the giddiness that had overcome the woman after hearing he'd closed the deal on the residence.

Rukia had dubbed it uncanny at the time. Of course Byakuya now knew that was a complete pile of rubbish. He'd fallen straight into her ill-devised plot. Because there he'd been, after five long years, that same face, that same smile, that same unseemly head of scraggly orange hair; a bit longer than before, but still the same. And after five years and an established relationship, Byakuya realized the distance had only worked to neutralize those feelings he thought he had long outlived, and now they were gushing out like an unbridled dam.

After five long years, _he_ was still the most beautiful thing Byakuya had ever laid eyes on.

Byakuya exhaled slowly, eyeing the approaching homestead with certain distaste and hesitation.

He continued past the building's entrance and into the elevator.

Rukia probably hoped she'd do him some good in placing both men back in each other's paths again.

But when Ichigo had seen him...

No. She had certainly done more ill than good. Ichigo no longer wanted anything to do with him. That, Byakuya knew. And in that respect, why should he? If he were to be honest, apart from the enduring sentiment he felt for Ichigo (that of which should hardly be the case anymore), there was more. A bitterness he couldn't control. A resentfulness. A hate. Because for five years, he never looked back.

The tread to his door was as painstaking as usual and as he stood keying the lock, Byakuya couldn't help the stray glance that lingered much too long on the door beside his. And then there was the pain, a hollow ache that strayed from physical, that settled over him like liquid, because if the last few nights served as any indication, Ichigo was not in there alone. On those few nights where Byakuya's luck was exceptionally sour, he'd run into Ichigo, during which they'd be obliged to exchange forced pleasantries consisting of empty words, weighted air and haphazard introductions to the consistently differing women traipsing in and out of Ichigo's place.

And though it was unreasonable, his chest would still swell, then dissipate to dirt.

THTHT

When Kaien arrived home that night, Byakuya was staring fixedly at his laptop screen, scribbled notes splayed across the table, coffee mug in one hand.

"Oh hey, were you waiting for me?" Kaien asked from the doorway with a smile.

Byakuya was startled from the screen and looked over to his partner a bit dazedly. "Welcome back," he too greeted with his usual monotone. "How was work?"

Kaien, who'd deviated to the kitchen, perused through the fridge, snagging out a can of beer. "Let's just say the taste of ass is still quite heavy on my lips," he said, making way towards Byakuya.

A hint of a smile grazed Byakuya's lips, Kaien's ire on account of his recent promotion nothing short of gratuitous and now daily. "I see."

Kaien smirked and chugged down a large swig from the can. "I'm glad that humors you."

"You desired this promotion."

Kaien feigned an exasperated sigh. "That's true,but as my partner shouldn't you be a bit more supportive?"

"In what way?"

"I don't know. Tell me to tell them to shove it or something."

Byakuya's brow cocked and he looked up. "Shove what?"

Kaien shook his head and coughed a short laugh. "Never mind."

Crossing over, he settled himself behind the seated Byakuya, stooping down and brushing the man's hair back before pressing a kiss to the newly-bared side of Byakuya's neck.

"What have you been up to on your day off?" he asked into the skin with a light, playful nuzzle. "Hopefully not missing me too much."

The man had become far more affectionate as of late. Byakuya couldn't help put piece together why.

Byakuya jotted down a phone number. "Looking into some potential residences."

Kaien's brow bunched and he suddenly stopped in his ministrations and looked to Byakuya. "Why?"

Byakuya didn't respond, instead his gaze shifted to his coffee and he took a swig.

With a breath, Kaien rose and straightened, shutting the laptop without warning.

Byakuya pulled a face. "What are you doing?"

"What are _you_ doing?"Kaien chucked the laptop aside. "Byakuya, there's no reason for us to run from this."

Byakuya briefly wondered if Kaien was in any way serious. Decided otherwise. He reached for the laptop again but a hand fell over his suddenly, it's owner now slightly disgruntled.

"Byakuya," A slight purse of his lips, then a sigh. "Look, I know this whole thing wasn't exactly what we were expecting,"

_Exactly?_ Byakuya wanted to say.

"But Ichigo is no longer a factor in our lives. In _your_ life." Kaien cupped Byakuya's chin. "If we leave now, what does that mean?"

There was an asking swimming in the aqua eyes, and the grip on Byakuya's hand tightened. _What are you running from?_ they wondered. _I'm here aren't I?_

Byakuya didn't say anything. Not for lack of answers, but for lack of _appropriate _ones.

Because he _was_ running away, and if Kaien had even the slightest glimpse into his mind, he too would agree. And Kaien _was_ here...but it wasn't enough, because so was _he._ And then...

_"Why do you think you're even with him?"_

The disparity was growing now...now that Ichigo was here again.

Byakuya's motives for embarking in this relationship were never of the cleanliest variety, he knew that. While he had always cared deeply for Kaien, the affection, it was different. Different from the one that had his heart drumming to its own lunatic rhythm, different from the one he felt for Ichigo. But when Ichigo discarded Byakuya's affections, Kaien had been there to pick up the pieces.

And then there was this something about him that made it feel okay, that fed Byakuya's desires.

Kaien suddenly drew Byakuya in, capturing his lips in a reassuring embrace, before separating and whispering, "No more, alright?"

And while they weren't _those_ lips, Byakuya allowed them to sooth him.

THTHT

That night, Kaien made love to him. As of late, it was an almost nightly occurrence. Each motion, each word, each touch was like a branding.

And through it all, it wasn't Kaien's face Byakuya saw.

THTHT

Ichigo sat in his usual stool beside the bar. Music boomed around him, heavy bass, opaque words. The air was thick, weighed down by the compact bodies merged like conjoined vines, sweat oozing silent lust, expectations, inebriety.

The familiar bartender slid Ichigo's usual drink at him from a few feet distance, sidling over with a knowing grin. A somewhat gangly man. Blonde, toothy, a much too tight chestnut v-neck hugging his torso, dark glossy jeans hanging low on slim hips and paving long legs.

"Guess this one's on the house," the man, Shinji, greeted with an amused snort.

Ichigo wrapped his palm around the glass, swirling the contents idly, the ice-cube's rattling dulled by the club's roar before bringing it to his lips and taking a swig. The heavy taste of rum and vodka barely ebbed by what could scarcely be made out as sprite cradled his tongue.

"You almost sound surprised," Ichigo replied simply, relishing in the delicious bitterness that scraped down his throat and settled in his gut.

Shinji rested his elbows atop the smooth counter.

"Who would've thought you'd be able to snag such a dime." A hint of soreness grazed the words.

Delicate, unnaturally slender waist, curvy jutting hips, superbly well endowed bust-line, plump pink lips, full head of long emerald waves, a real beauty in any book. The girl had been the flame to this moth-littered club the night before. 'Out of their leagues,' his buddies had spent the night lamenting. Ichigo, on the other hand, figured she may have been exactly what he needed to get him out of his rut. In the end though, gorgeous as she may have been, he'd been barely sated.

And hell if it didn't peeve him straight to hell.

"So," Shinji drawled with a playful punch to Ichigo's shoulder. "spill, man. How was it?"

Ichigo stared up for a second, before his gaze flicked back down to his drink."Yeah, it was cool."

"It was...cool?"Shinji's brow curved."Nah man. This wasn't some floozy two-bit broad you fuck in a bathroom stall then make way for the next, this gall must've been-"

Unsatisfying.

"-something else man. Don't hold back cause o' me. I'm only a lil bitter." Shinji laughed brusquely. "Come on. Any piercings?"

Ichigo only shook his head at his lecherous friend's inquiry, gulping down some more of his liquor. From the corner of his eye he could make out his friend Renji talking up some gals from across the bar. Nothing real special about them. Two brunettes, a bit too stalky for Ichigo's tastes but doable. Renji had a bit of a thing for tattoos, and one of the girls, just as he, was draped in them. The girl's friend looked about as easy as they came; the skin-tight leather skirt she wore so short Ichigo swore if he stared hard enough he might just be able to make out her glory-hole.

Good. Straight to the point.

The 27-year-old's nights as of late consisted mostly of this. Women. Drinking. Sex. His friend Renji would often join him in these fitful escapades; the guy being about as monogamous as a horny Bonobo. He never questioned Ichigo's sudden springing into the nightlife either; Ichigo having never been one for it. Renji likely figured he'd finally found himself a worthy accomplice. Ichigo didn't care. The longer he was out here, the longer he'd be out of his apartment, the longer he'd be away from _him_.

Renji motioned him over with a jerk of his head to the woman on his left (as Ichigo had figured), a sly twist to his lips and a barely-there crook to his brow.

Understanding, Ichigo scooped himself up from his seat, a suave smirk sliding into place across his face and began towards them, providing a quick parting gesture to Shinji who only groaned.

"Man you guys fuckin' suck." Shinji whined from behind the bar, with a dejected hunch of his shoulders.

THTHT

"So's that like-" Hiccup. "-yerreal hair? S'like isson fire!" The woman's hands messily reaped through Ichigo's lively head of orange. It took no Sherlock to see she was so soused out of her ass her coherence level equaled less than that of an infant's. She really knew how to put it down.

Tonight Ichigo'd barely had to put any wooing effort, the woman having fallen over him like industrial strength Velcro with shameful ease. Easy was the wrong word for what this broad was.

Biting back the urge to sigh, Ichigo wrapped his arms around her waist as she proceeded to yet again stumble on her own two feet. A few feet in front of him Renji proved his knack for multitasking; effortlessly gliding down the streets with his face melded like bubblegum into the woman strapped to his arm.

Apparently Renji's girl lived close by, which was where all four were currently headed.

Ichigo's 'date' for the night, whose name he swore started with an S ...maybe (Not that it mattered. She probably couldn't remember her name herself by now), nipped down on his earlobe suddenly, hand still ensnarled in his locks.

"Mm Ican juss eatyu up..." she slurred, the smell of alcohol thick in her breath; one messy tasteless fray of everything.

Ichigo was working to hold her off when a vibration spread through his thigh and he rooted through his pocket for his cell phone, his spare hand continuing to keep the tipsy woman at bay.

"Yeah?" Ichigo answered.

"Ichigo,"

Something cold, hateful crept up Ichigo's spine and his face hardened. "What do you wan-"

"It's Karin..."

THTHT

"Ichi-ni!" his youngest sister called to him through scrunched features as he barraged through the hospital's hallway with desperate haste.

"Hey baby," he bunched the girl in his arms, upon parting noticing the red puffiness clouding much of her face, a clear connotation of earlier tears. "Where's Karin?"

Yuzu led him to a room a few doors down. He stopped shortly at the doorway, taking in the image of his sister sprawled out on the hospital bed, his gut churning. Quickly, he scrambled towards her, a slight relief washing over him when the girl's face careened to meet him, a fragile excuse of a smile curving her lips. Her head was bandaged, blotches of discoloration marring parts of her face, and a leg strung up in a cast.

"Ich-"

"Karin," he breathed out, falling over to wrap the young girl in a careful embrace. Parting, his hand lightly cupped the side of her face. "How did this happen?"

"I w-"

"A man ran over a faulty traffic light, taking Karin with him as she was returning home from soccer practice." The voice of a man responded. Demon's splayed across Ichigo's vision at the sound. "He was luckily able to break in time to lessen the impact."

Ichigo achingly turned to face behind him. He now noticed his father stood against the wall, another bespectacled man seated beside him.

Ichigo's scowl deepened.

"You call this lucky?" he practically spat.

The man was about to reply, brows knitted, when Karin interrupted the tensing atmosphere.

"I'm alright," she lowly said.

Ichigo faced her again and his hand gently rubbed her shoulder. "Does it hurt?"

She shook her head. "Not sure..."

Ichigo smiled weakly, the girl's dazed and glassy eyes a clear giveaway for just how doped up on medication she was.

Again, Ichigo's eyes scanned his sister's form, stopping on her leg cast.

Yuzu knelt down beside him. "She has a few fractured bones. They said with enough time they should heal successfully. She's really lucky."

Karin's eyes had casted downward, the statement having clearly struck a chord.

"Hey, those are good news," Ichigo comforted, knowing the girl's livelihood revolved around her love for soccer.

Karin only nodded sleepily. A few minutes later the girl was officially roped in by the fatigue and meds, conking out like a newborn babe.

With a weighted sigh, Ichigo stood from beside the bed.

"We were so worried..." Yuzu mumbled sadly.

"I know."Ichigo bent over and gripped the eleven year old by the shoulders. "How long have you been here?"

"Since four." Yuzu rested her head against Ichigo's arm.

After a few minutes of silence, he nudged the little one.

'Hey, when was the last time you ate?"

"Um...this morning," She shook her head hastily. "B-but I didn't want to leave her."

Ichigo helped the girl up. "Come on, let's go grab a bite before she wakes up then."

Smiling, Yuzu nodded in compliance.

"Ichigo," his father again spoke. Ichigo had shortly forgotten he was even there.

"Wait for me outside okay?" Ichigo ruffled Yuzu's hair. The girl shot an uneasy glance to both men before scampering off somewhat hesitantly.

When the girl exited the room, the older man continued, "Ichigo, I-"

"How about you share that attention you're so busy showering your goddamn boyfriend in, to keep a better eye on your own daughter?" Ichigo nastily interfered, now facing the man with a scathing scowl, uncaring for the other set of eyes in the room.

A hurt surfaced from the man's face, but Ichigo ignored it. Instead, it fueled the hatred in him.

"Son,"

"_Don't_ fucking call me that." his words ripped out of his throat like toxin and it was clear they affected the man across from him in the same way.

With that, Ichigo stormed out of the room, unspoken profanities airing out the space in his stead.


End file.
